Learning Curve
by hiding duh
Summary: Justin/Alex. Honestly, it's the only time she's enjoyed learning. Collection of ficlets written for the Jalex kink meme on LJ.
1. Chapter 1

Collection of one-shot comment-fics written for the Jalex kink meme on LJ. Will be updated until the meme closes.

Kindly click the back button if the rating is too much for you.

x

**Title**: Learning Curve

**Summary**: Honestly, it's the only time she's enjoyed learning.

**Rating**: R

**Word Count**: 500

**Author's Notes**: Oooh, Alex, you is goin' to jail, girl.

x

It's not a big deal.

After all, Justin's taught her everything else. Honestly, it's the only time she's enjoyed learning.

He showed her how to charm her veggies into candy when she was three. Pressed his lips to hers when he was six and didn't know better. Took her out to fly when she just couldn't learn from anyone else.

So, yeah, this isn't a big deal.

She has to learn, and learn properly, and Justin's going to teach her.

Whether he likes it or not.

"This feels wrong," he murmurs, but slides his hand up her shirt. "What if your parents walk in?"

She feels guilty, but it's only for a moment. Spells are like that. "They won't," she tells him, unbuttoning his pants. "If you hurry up."

He presses into her, palming the wall, and brings his mouth to her neck. "I keep feeling like they'd be really upset over this."

She groans and slips her fingers into his hair, tugging. "Look, Justin. The spell's going to wear off soon, so freakin' cooperate, okay?"

His brows draw together in thought. "What spell—"

She sneaks a hand down his pants and wraps her fingers around him. "Yeah, if this doesn't shut you up, I don't know what—"

He kisses her. Bucks forward a little, sighs against her mouth, and paws at her jeans. "Okay."

She could use magic. Strip him of his clothes, teleport them to a soft bed, but she figures she's already over her quota, so she shimmies out of her pants and takes him out of his boxers and slides her panties to the side and—

"_Alex_," he says, in a way that makes her think she's teaching _him _this time.

He doesn't last long, but that's okay because it's their first time. The first time she charmed her veggies into candy, they tasted like chalk. Their first kiss was messy and weird. And the first time she flew with him, she almost ruined baseball.

But now, now she's good at all those things. Really good. She just needs practice.

"What just happened?" he asks, panting into her hair.

He's still pulsing inside her, so Alex wraps her hands around his neck and buries her head in his chest. "Again."

He stills, every muscle in his body tensing against hers. "What did I just _do_?"

She brings her lips to his ear, and whispers the charm. "Again."

He slants his lips over hers and obeys.

It's not a big deal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Dare

**Rating**: R

**Word Count**: 600

x

Justin should know better.

Playing Truth or Dare with Alex is like playing Russian Roulette with all chambers loaded. Or maybe something way less dramatic? Whatever, the point is: the outcome is predictable.

Alex isn't big on telling the truth, and Justin's usually happy to provide her with a dare.

Except, this time it's Gigi doing the daring and Justin's the daree. Daree? That's not a word, he thinks, but then he's being shoved in a closet with his sister so maybe his concern over the degradation of the English language shouldn't be a priority—

"I _know_," Gigi drawls and slides the bolt into place. "I read her journal, remember?"

_I do_, he wants to say, _but you technically shouldn't_, and seriously, what kind of bunker-type closet is this?

"Oh, for—" Alex huffs, annoyed. "Just sit it out, Justin."

Justin's itchy and wants out of this closet full of his sister, but he's older so he needs to reassure her that everything's going to be fine. "We're going to die."

She's probably looking at him, but it's dark, so he can only imagine what her scowl must look like. "It's seven minutes in heaven, Justin, not a stroll through the seven circles of hell."

Justin exhales. "There are nine circles of hell, Alex."

"Shut up," she grumbles, "and let me kiss you."

"What?" he squeaks out, plastering himself against the closet door and jiggling a handle that doesn't exist.

Her breath warms a spot on his neck as she says, "I'm not gonna back down from a dare." Less urgently, she adds, "Especially when it's from Gigi."

So then his sister kisses him, and it's not exactly gross.

After all, Alex has nice lips—not that he noticed—and they sort of fit well over his? Yeah, that can't be right, he thinks, but there's his hand, wandering off on its own, palming her hip.

She hesitates for a moment, then basically melts into him or maybe he melts into her but it doesn't matter 'cause the end result is nice and involves his sister's hands tugging at his belt. The skin below his navel shifts with the motion, and look at that, there are other things of Justin's that fit well with Alex—

"What did she read in your journal?" he manages, breathless.

Alex's hand pauses, her lips hovering over his neck. "Hey. I picked dare."

Oh. Okay. He can just fill in the blanks, read between the lines... slide his hand up Alex's skirt and pretty much _die _because he's touching his little sister and he doesn't even want to stop.

"Don't stop," she tells him, and it sounds like a dare.

Truth is, he can't.

So he presses his cheek to hers and skims his nails down her inner thighs and she arches into him—

There's a sound of chains unlatching, and then they're tumbling out of the closet and down onto cold hallway tiles. They're also a tangled, flushed mess and there are people watching. Justin knows there isn't enough magic in the world to fix _this_.

"Yep," Gigi shrugs, hand on hip, looking down at them. "Thought so."

Justin's hands don't move.

Yeah. There's going to be a tenth circle of hell, added specially for him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Prick of a Spindle

**Rating**: R

**Word Count**: 1400

x

This kind of messed up crazy stuff only happens to Justin.

Usually because of her, but this time, seriously, she's done nothing. ...that they can prove.

They're in the basement, trying to find cool stuff for his hypothetical dorm room, and it's dark and smelly and Alex is cranky so she busies herself with texting Justin. Even though he's next to her. 'Cause she's not moving any freakin' boxes, especially not for free, okay.

"Ow."

Bored, Alex glances at Justin, then at the webbed old spindle poking out of a mountain of moldy sheets, then back at her phone.

"I said ow," he says a little louder, sucking on his thumb.

"You're not going to die from pricking your finger, Justin," she yawns, squinting at her phone.

As if on cue, he crashes into a huge pile of packing peanuts, crying out.

"Drama queen—" she starts, almost affectionately, then blinks and pokes her head through a tall stack of boxes. "Oh, you really died. Well, that's no fun."

His face scrunches up, palms flattening against the floor, eyes trained on the ceiling. "Was that a poisoned spindle?"

"Ho-okay, _Aurora_," she snorts, dropping to her knees by his side and puffing away a piece of floaty foam. "No? Outdated reference? ...Justin?"

Justin's breath hitches. "I'm serious. It hurts."

She's not scared. Justin's not going to die in some basement, c'mon. But...

"Call Dad," he pants, then holds out his hand. "Wait, no. Not Dad."

"Make up your mind," Alex snaps.

He's sprawled on his back, surrounded by packing supplies and spider webs, and he kinda does look like he's dying. And possibly enjoying it? "Must've been a magical—" he tries to say, but his hands fly to his... um, that area. What the?

"Look around for a scroll or something," he moans, and Alex sits up straighter.

"What?"

"Spell," he growls a little, writhing. "It's some sort of spell."

Alex glances around. Should've brought her wand. Or possibly a flashlight. "What? The spindle? _Really_?" she boggles, tugging on a mildewy tag hanging from what is apparently a spinning wheel. Seriously? "Oh. It comes with instructions."

"GOOD."

Alex hates reading, but eh, she probably needs to read this to save her brother. "_What is meant to spin a thread can make you jolly or make you dead_," she recites flatly, "_so use this treasure to seek out pleasure, but beware and understand: it cannot be by your own hand_." She trails off, unimpressed, then finishes, "_Quench your desire, lest you expire_."

Justin stills, but says nothing.

Alex tilts her head. "What? I don't—oh. Oh. Ew."

"Yeah," he says, averting his eyes.

Disgusted, Alex waits for a beat, then demands, "Why do we even HAVE this—?" Oh, gross, no, no, she totally didn't just picture her parents getting frisky, roughly fifty years ago. "No! That's okay. Don't answer that. Please."

Justin squeezes his knees together.

"Call, um..." he breathes, lifting off the ground a bit, "call Juliet."

Yeah, she's not going to do that.

With a pointed look, Alex takes out her cell phone and fake-dials. " 'Hey, Juliet?' " she tells the phone with an annoyed huff. " 'Yeah, hi, my brother's under a spell and really needs you to, like, get him off.' " She snaps the phone loudly and makes a face. "Are you _stupid_?"

He groans, digs his feet into the ground, and bites his lip, hard.

"Um," Alex falters. "I can call Harper?"

He's considering it. Justin is actually thinking about it. The idiot would rather have _Harper_ help him? Yeah, that... that sort of hurts.

"You're going to die," she says, and she sounds kinda sad, and that's just wrong, so she twists a little and presses her palm to his stomach.

Justin's eyes shoot open. "What are you—"

"I gave up my powers to save you once," she tells him casually, but her fingers are sort of shaking. "The least you can give up is your virginity, Justin."

His face is a strange color, somewhere between the type of red that suggests _I want to kill you_ and the pink that comes with _Can you please never go away?_, so Alex takes a deep breath and unbuttons Justin's pants.

He turns away, brows knitting.

"...please make it quick," she thinks she hears him say, so yeah, that's totally not going to happen. Alex doesn't take orders from anyone, and definitely not from her brother.

Sure, she has no idea what she's doing, but _he_ doesn't know that. So she bends a little and angles her wrist.

"Okay, yeah, this _is_ weird," she mumbles to herself, then slips her fingers through his zipper. He twitches beneath her palm, startling her.

In turn, she squeezes her eyes shut, and whoo, this would usually be the part where she suddenly realizes she's messed up super big and Justin comes to save her.

Except, Justin has to come for Alex to save him.

...there isn't enough magic in the universe to make that sentence sound right.

But slowly, Justin's fingers wrap around her wrist, pushing her hand down, and Alex figures, hey, there are spells to forget this kind of stuff, so whatever, she can do this.

Her nails catch on the slit in his briefs, and he bucks into her hand.

"Boy underwear makes no sense," she complains, and Justin tries to bite back a grin, squirming. "Oh, there we go."

His breath catches, and Alex finds she maybe, possibly, definitely likes this. If it weren't so, you know, wrong, she'd totally be able to use this to control him. TV remote, dinner choices, staying home instead of leaving for college—those would all be her decisions.

"Don't look," he says, voice cracking.

So, obviously, Alex looks. She looks at his face, and her hand, and that one thing that she probably shouldn't be staring at, but you know. It's new and weird-looking, and she's curious, that's all.

Justin groans, slinging his arm over his eyes. His lips part, and Alex adjusts her hold, grips him with both hands, and yeah, how was she going to do this?

"Justin..."

His other hand, still loosely wrapped around her wrist, slides down and then his fingers are guiding hers.

"I'm sorry," he says, but shows her how.

She gets the hang of it quickly—because she's Alex—but there's this weird little feeling low in her stomach, which is probably a million times worse than what she's doing right now.

"Hurry up," she whines, but it sounds so, so wrong. Like, seductive and stuff, and wow, she's going to have to find that forgetting-things spell, posthaste. "..._Justin_."

Her nagging sort of works, though, 'cause Justin just tightens all over, sighs: "_Alex_," then spills into her hands.

She sits there for a minute, confused, then calmly wipes her hands off. On his pants. 'Cause... well.

"I'm so sorry," he says, arm still hiding his face.

Yeah, okay, he'll never leave the basement if she doesn't do something.

"You'd do the same for me," she shrugs, and he finally peeks at her.

"Yeah," he says seriously.

Oh.

Well. In that case.

Warm, she shifts, stretches out one arm, and pricks her finger on the spindle.


	4. Chapter 4

So, basically, you're all perverts...?

Hey, high-five!

x

**Title**: Luck of the Irish

**Rating**: R

**Spoilers**: _My Tutor, Tutor_, and _Justin's First Kiss_.

**Word Count**: 1300

x

These are things that don't count, according to Justin:

1. His first kiss.

Because it was technically _seventeen_ kisses, and half of those involved sucking on some fat guy's hairy gut. Justin can't afford therapy, so it doesn't count, okay.

(...and maybe 'cause he vaguely sort of remembers Alex popping up right before kiss number eleven, snarling: "Oh, my gosh, let me just SHOW you," slapping his cheeks with her palms, puckering up his lips, and kind of kissing him? Again, he can't afford therapy, so... no.)

2. His first... you know.

Mainly because he was asleep and dreaming about the ten-cheese enchilada surprise. He's a geek, sure, but even he has standards.

(...and also 'cause Alex briefly starred in that stupid dream, stretching a string of cheese between her lips and fingers, sighing happily: "Did you know the surprise is an eleventh cheese?"

...like, therapy's free in college, right?)

3. His first glimpse of... um, lady bits.

Because, seriously, he's stuck in the bathroom of the least authentic leprechaun grill in existence, and the lady bits he's sort of guiltily staring at belong to his little sister.

"_When in doubt, inside out_!" she repeats frantically, wand drawn, and jumps back when the stall door rattles violently.

Justin should probably say something.

Like: _Hey, Alex, you're doing it wrong_, or _I can see your... stuff_, but there's a rabid little leprechaun waiting for them outside of this tiny stall they've crammed themselves into and Alex is trying to use Max's spell to get them out.

Yeah... note to self, he thinks: never do that.

"Alex," he says when the pounding and the vaguely brogue-ish hissing finally dies down.

"Think he's gone?" she asks, pressing her ear to the door.

"Not the only thing that's gone..." Justin swallows, huddling in the opposite corner of the narrow stall.

"What—" she frowns, then probably feels the breeze or something, and... wow. Hey. She _can_ blush. She's human. Hallelujah. "DON'T LOOK, JUSTIN."

"I wasn't!" he squeaks out, trying to avert his gaze, but his head doesn't seem to want to turn. Mostly, he supposes, his eyes, independent of his brain, just want to soak up this scene forever. Plus infinity.

She drops her wand, furiously trying to cover critical body parts. "Spell, Justin!" she growls, not looking at him. "Think of a spell to get my clothes back!"

Yeah... he's trying. He's trying, but basically, he can't even remember how the alphabet goes right now. He's sure there's an _o_ in there somewhere, as in OH MY GOD, THERE'S A NAKED GIRL HERE, WHAT DO I DO.

"...at least the leprechaun is gone," he manages and seriously, how is this the right thing to say?

But Alex seems to pause and relax, one arm hiding her breasts, the other... yeah, okay, he's not looking.

"Give me your shirt."

Justin twitches. "What?"

"Your shirt, Justin," she nods her chin at him.

He's a gentleman and stuff, so he starts tugging his shirt over his head, and when it's off, he proffers it to her and then realizes he's half naked. And Alex is _completely_ naked. And his pants are kinda weirdly tight.

Alex's gaze darts to his chest. Her bangs brush over her eyes. "This is all your fault, Justin," she says in a low, bothered voice.

Justin's still holding his shirt like he doesn't know what it's generally used for.

"Put it on me," she says, expression unreadable.

He starts to comply, because it's only logical she'd need an extra pair of hands, sure, but then his fingers touch bare skin and his brain shrinks by roughly seventy percent.

"You do it!" he yelps nervously, chucking the shirt at her and then mostly failing to turn around.

"It's your fault for trying to date Tutor," she huffs. "So you do it."

Justin hesitates, chancing a peek at her. (Face. Okay. He's totally looking at her face.)

So, yeah. Alex has been growly and noticeably more evil the last few days, and he's been sort of secretly liking it because, apparently, he's a big stupid masochist who really should look into counseling. So he says, in his best imitation of her, "It's your fault for messing with the leprechaun, _Alex_."

Her head snaps up. "He wanted _food_, Justin! You know I don't share!"

"That's your problem, not mine!"

The shirt flutters to the floor. Yeah, he's gonna have to disinfe... _burn_ it.

"My problems are your problems," she replies haughtily, waving her hand with a scoff. "Are you _new_?"

"Yeah, well—" he begins, but then... "Um. Alex."

Alex narrows her eyes at him, cheeks flushed. "...I know. Shut up."

He stares for a moment. Not at her face. "Okay. Well. I need to get out of here."

Thoughtlessly, he tries to push past her and reach for the latch, but his stomach brushes against hers and then he just sort of stops.

"You can't have Tutor," she tells his collarbone.

So. Justin's going to ruin his pants, too. Probably within the next minute.

"I can," he snaps back automatically, "and I _so _will."

"Pfft. Yeah, well," she presses against him, "I hate you."

"Yeah," he replies, sounding entirely unconvincing, "I totally hate you, too."

And then his hand somehow slips between them?

"Justin," she says, surprised. Or maybe not so much surprised as smug. "Y'know. I can so get you there first."

_What, get me where?_ he wonders, braindead, then... oh. _Ohh_.

"Yeah, no way," he challenges, and to emphasize his point, accidentally slams her into the door.

"If I win," she pants, struggling with his belt, "you'll back off Tutor."

The door hinges creak as he kinda instinctively grinds into her. "And if I win, you'll..." he murmurs, then freezes because she's evidently giving up on the belt altogether and just curling her fingers over him. "...yeah, I'll think of something later."

"Okay."

And then she tries to win, and um, this is pretty much the first time Justin actually wants to lose. Normally, he'd be freaking out because he hasn't done this yet (and, you know, 'cause this is his little sister), but there is nothing normal about this and it's _Alex_ and Alex doesn't count anyway.

"Am I winning?" she asks, curving into him.

_Just by existing_, he wants to tell her, but decides it's probably better if he just takes her hand away and presses his hips to hers with a slow, hard thrust. And even though his pants are still on, he can _feel_ her and okay, maybe this counts a little.

"Ten-cheese enchiladas," he groans into her neck.

"Gross," she snorts, then makes a cute little noise and rubs up against him like she was born to do this.

"If I win," he elaborates, tottering on the edge, "I want you to eat some for me."

"...'cause that's not weird or anything," she mumbles, grinning into his shoulder. Between soft gasps, she adds, "So... I... get to... keep... Tutor?"

Right. Who's Tutor again?

There aren't many things Justin knows right now, but he's coherent enough to realize this:

1. He wants to lose. And then he wants to win. And then maybe they can work out a way to do both at the same time.

2. He's going to need therapy. Buckets of it.

3. And yeah, this definitely counts.

(Besides. It was always going to be with Alex.)


	5. Chapter 5

Probably the last one!

The title is dirtier than the actual ficlet.

x

**Title**: Deep End

**Rating**: R

**Prompt**: "Justin's the only member of the Russo family who still likes to take baths. Alex decides to join him one night."

x

Alex is not spying on her brother.

She's just... keeping the enemy under surveillance. Yeah. That's what she's doing.

'Cause she's out of blackmail material and she's gonna need a pretty massive distraction in about a week, when she fails Spanish. Again.

So, obviously, sneaking up on Justin in the bathroom is the most logical choice.

Except for the part where he's undressing in front of her because she's sort of invisible.

"Are you ready?" he asks what may or may not be a rubber ducky, and ordinarily, Alex would basically be filming this then uploading it to both the mortal and wizard world wide webs, but Justin is naked, and it's weird and gross and he's not allowed to have a nice body, and what is even going on here, ew?

Peculiarly pink, Alex absconds with one of the rubber duckies, undetected.

x

On Tuesday, she's back.

But only because she's still failing Spanish and still in need of a distraction.

Justin's already in the tub, knees poking out of an embarrassing amount of bubbles, and Alex... Alex should be muting her phone and pressing Rec because the idiot's playing with a model airplane and looking nine kinds of super lame, gosh.

Instead, she glances about, as though someone could actually notice her ogling her brother when she's, you know, invisible, then drops to a crouch by Justin's elbow.

This is stupid.

It's just Justin. It's her purpose in life to throw him off, not the other way around. So, with a smirk, she puts her lips together and blows a little on the wet patch of skin right above his elbow.

He jumps up, shivering.

And then he cocks his head, raises his eyebrows, and asks, in an oddly low voice, "Alex?"

Alex hightails it out of there within a nanosecond.

x

Look, she doesn't need to justify this to anyone.

It's her bathroom, too, and if she wants to be in it while Justin's taking a bath or whatever, she has every right to.

"Or something," she mumbles under her breath.

Justin's ears perk up.

He sits up, water sloshing around his chest and dipping low to his waist—

Alex retreats in a flash.

x

On Sunday, she's only vaguely aware of that whole failing Spanish thing.

'Cause Justin's not showing up. She's been sitting on the edge of the tub in her pajamas for, like, forever. Well. An hour, but still. She's even rearranged all the rubber duckies and alphabetized all the shampoos, which is just so not like her, so where the hell—

The door clicks open.

Wary, Justin pokes his head in, hesitates for a moment, then shuffles into the bathroom.

"Okay," he says, apparently to himself, then leans his arms on the sink, head bowed in front of the mirror. "Antiderivative. Indefinite integration. Vertical translations—"

"What are you doing?" she scoffs before she can think on it.

"Calculus," he answers automatically.

Her hands fly to her mouth, eyes widening.

His hands fly to his wand, pointing it in her general direction.

And then she's not invisible anymore.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Failing Spanish?" she tries nonchalantly.

"...I... what?"

She takes a hurried step toward the door, heart racing. "Okay, so. See ya."

His fingers wrap around her wrist, yanking her back. "Alex."

She squeezes her eyes shut briefly, then turns to look up at him. "I'm..." she pouts uncomfortably, "that word that rhymes with... brorry?"

He seems to think for a moment, then tightens his grip. "Have you been here all week?"

"Pfft. Hi, I live here, Justin."

Justin's face is serious, though. "Every day, Alex?"

Alex sighs, resigned. "Nah. I missed Thursday 'cause me and Harper were doing my homework," she tells him. "Well. Harper was doing my homework. I was napping."

Justin's cheeks darken. "Did you... did you stay the, um. The whole time?"

Oh...? And what's this, then?

"...maybe," she says slowly, sizing him up.

"Oh," is all he says, releasing her and quickly busying himself with filling the tub. "Look, it's not, um, what you think."

Alex pauses, intrigued. "...it's not?"

Awkwardly, Justin turns on the faucet, raising his voice to compensate. "I only said your name because it's..." he cringes. "Short?"

Said her name when? What?

"What?"

Justin blinks at her. "What?"

Yeah, okay, Alex doesn't have the attention span for this. "Justin, move."

He does.

Suspicious, Alex squeezes out some shampoo under the running faucet, watching Justin out of the corner of her eye.

"You really shouldn't use shampoo—" he starts obnoxiously.

"It's my bath," she mocks, swatting at the bubbles, "I'll use whatever I want."

Justin's shoulders stiffen. "Oh. Okay. Well. I'll just leave you to it, then."

The lock clicks.

"Alex, what..."

Alex slips her wand back into her pajamas, turns off the water and leans against the edge of the tub, feigning boredom. "We took baths together when we were kids."

Justin backs into the door nervously. "Yes, and?"

"And," she says, kicking off her slippers, "I wanna see at what point, exactly, you call out my name, okay."

Justin looks pretty dead. She should probably fix that, but this is a bigger deal than failing Spanish, right? Sure, she won't actually be able to use this to get out of trouble with her parents, 'cause... you know. Possible incest. But...

"You're not serious," he yelps, pawing at the doorknob.

Well, she wasn't until she saw his reaction, but now she's gotta follow through. Like always. And also, she sort of wants to see if his chest feels as firm as it looks. Just to make fun of him later, of course. "Get in."

Justin's eyes are impossibly large. "Alex."

She tests the water with her toes, then shrugs, lifts her pajama top over her head, shimmies out of her bottoms, and slides into the bath. "Oh. Okay. I hate this."

Incredulous, Justin's still just sort of hovering by the door. Slowly, however, his features darken.

He takes an unsteady step forward, shedding his pajamas. "If you hate it, get out."

Alex shivers. Because it's cold, okay. "Make me."

He gets in opposite her. "Don't tempt me."

She wonders, briefly, if he means just the bath, but then his legs are stretching on either side of her, and hey, you know, maybe showers are overrated. Sure, she's sort of huddling against one end and it's cramped and she's in here with her _brother_, but...

"Ten times four is forty, five times seven is thirty," she mumbles, averting her eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asks, equal parts amused and mortified.

"Calculus?"

After a beat, Justin says, "That's not calculus." Offended, he turns his gaze to the neat row of rubber duckies staring at them. "And it's _thirty-five_, Alex."

Their eyes meet.

Suddenly, Justin just inhales, then systematically turns the surviving duckies away.

"What are you doing?" she snorts, splashing him.

"I don't want them to see this," he says, kinda guiltily, and presses his lips to hers.

Alex's brain shuts off.

There's some Spanish and some calculus and some _Harper's ninety-year-old grandma who has shingles _running around in her brain, but none of it is calming or cooling her down. Because her brother is kissing her. Which means she's finally driven him insane.

...and she _likes_ that.

"Alex," he sighs against her lips.

Her thighs clench, slippery, and she pushes him away slightly. "Yeah, I don't feel like we're getting very clean."

Kinda the opposite, really, but best not to actually tell him that.

Justin's lips tug down. "...um, is calculus working for you?"

"Nope. You?"

"Hasn't been for a mo... _week_."

And then he kisses her again. With less guilt. Maybe.

The bubbles are evaporating, so Alex shifts closer to Justin. Only because the motion will create more lather or whatever. The water, of course, rises dangerously high, and the wave brings her closer on the rebound and yep, she's sprawling on top of her brother, bracing herself against the tub.

"Alex, are you really failing Spanish?" he breathes.

She adjusts her hips a little, puffing his bangs away from his forehead. "Are you really worried about _that_ right now, Justin?"

"No," he admits uneasily. "You weren't actually here all week, were you?"

"No," she lies, wedging herself between his knees.

Justin winces and it's not like she has no idea why, but it's way too bizarre to even contemplate. And maybe it's also kinda hot. No, that... obviously can't be right.

"So, you don't know what I—" he starts.

Her stomach presses against his, water lapping at her shoulders and chin. Okay, so maybe it's kinda right.

"Well," she tells him casually, "you could show me."

And with a reluctant frown, he does.


End file.
